


A Song of Light & Darkness

by mneiai



Series: A Song of Light & Darkness [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canon Typical Incest, Character Death, Dark, Don't Like Don't Whine To Me, Drabble Collection, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, House Targaryen, Human Sacrifice, Incest, Jon Snow is Called Aemon, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Aegon the Conqueror brought Westeros to its knees with Dark magic powered by the sacrifices of the Doom. Centuries later, his descendants will finally have their chance to stamp out the last remaining Light practitioners, who thought the Wall would always protect them from the South.





	1. Jon

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote [a drabble in my ASOIAF drabble collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581386/chapters/46782382) that established a magical AU in Westeros and kept having more ideas for that world, so I decided to make a separate collection. The first chapter here is that drabble, with a few edits.
> 
> This will be along the lines of [Trinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659911), though even less chronological, and will be drabble-like chapters that all build within the same universe and timeline of events.
> 
> Per usual, I think Aemon will be Jon's Targaryen name in canon if he has one ([a good collection of reasons in a Reddit post](https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/6n3sip/spoilers_extended_his_true_name_a_detailed/)), and so I use that here.
> 
> The BLOOD & GORE and ABUSE mentions are real but basically like...there's lots of dark creepy magic and dark creepy magic users, so it's pretty typical for that sort of thing, not like anything exceptional. Unlike normal I decided to add a bunch of tags upfront, but I will be adding more as I go along like I normally do.

"My own son, a traitor!" 

Jon stared up at Rhaegar, shivering from the crawl of angry, dark magic through the room. It was only through his position that he wasn't being addressed in the throne room, in public view of the coven's greatest members and representatives, and dealing with far worse. That and the shame it might bring his family, to know that one of Targaryen blood had sided with the Light.

"Well? Nothing to say for yourself? No excuse to give?"

Those purple eyes glared down at him, too-bright, and Jon was glad that his own had faded to grey after so long away from his ancestral magic. He did not look, at first glance, like his father, and that had long been a blessing in the North, beyond the dragons' reach.

"You murdered my mother."

Rhaegar's mouth hung open, the words he'd been starting to say caught in his throat at the sudden accusation. "Is that what those _Light_ fools told you?"

"I saw it. It's the reason I can never communicate with her spirit--you drained her life, her soul, for...."

"For you, my son." Rhaegar's voice was tender, as if the conversation reminded him of his great work, not the senseless murder of a woman he had sworn marriage vows to.

Jon scoffed. "Was it your plan all along? You wanted to experiment, to mix two bloodlines that should be incompatible, and so you sought out a girl who wouldn't know better. Did you even bother seducing her or did you simply bespell her from the start?"

The magic in the room became hotter, heavier, and Jon could feel it crawling over him, binding him in place. He hadn't felt such magic in so long it almost felt foreign against his own aura.

"The woman who birthed you was a foolish girl who wanted to dabble in the Dark. She agreed to have my child in exchange for my teachings. She didn't think through what that would entail and even if she could have survived, she would have been useless taking care of anyone, even herself. You insult Elia by giving that girl her title."

He shuddered, looking away, but he could feel his father's stare, on his body, in his mind. He'd never been able to keep him out, Targaryen parents made sure of that early on to keep their children from betraying them. He'd only been able to because his father had been so distracted by a conflict within the kingdom that Jon could slip into the North before he noticed anything amiss. 

"Aemon...you are too smart to think the Light is innocent and good." 

Rhaegar's hands were in his hair, guiding his head to rest against his thigh. The floor under Jon's knees grew softer, as it always had when he'd had to kneel before his father for ceremonies. The magic had cooled, simply warm now, familiar and more comfortable than he wished it were. It was the magic of his childhood, of the time before he knew what his family was truly capable of and what he'd been training for.

"And," he continued, shifting Jon's head so he could meet his eyes, "too smart to think you are nothing more to me, to your family, than an experiment."

"...Father..." he whispered, the first time he'd used the title for the man outloud in over two years, unsure if the heartache he was feeling was true or planted there.

"My son," Rhaegar murmured, the words another weight of magic, a claiming into the ether of the world, "my sweet little boy. I should have protected you better from their manipulations. I am sorry."

Jon heard the door behind them open, followed by the heavy footsteps of the Kingsguard. The magical bonds around him tightened again, thickening, and in his magic-dampened state he could not fight against them as he was lifted into the air so that the guards might take hold of him.

"The court, of course, is aware of how the Light has manipulated your mind through spells and potions," Jon went to protest, but his throat was too tight, his tongue would not move, "we will consider the cleansing you must go through punishment for anything you personally might have done."

His eyes went wide. If he could struggle, he would have, his breathing and heart speeding up as near-panic set in. He'd done more than his share of Light magic in the years since he'd left, and more still when he'd been hiding it as a curious child. The process of stripping it from him would be excruciating. 

"Don't look so worried, Aemon, the process will be successful. I'll make sure of that. And once it's done, you can tell me all the information the Light let slip around you."


	2. Before

Their family had grown weak, complacent. If Aegon needed any other sign of that, he could see it now in how they obediently fell into their positions for the ritual, none thinking to ask what it would entail.

Rhaella was placed on the altar, hands protectively gripping her swollen stomach, Aerys shifting from foot to foot nearby. He had told them what the goal was, at least, to bring back the height of their family's magics for the child in her womb. She had protested, initially, when she thought it was meant as a sacrifice.

No, the babe would not be the sacrifice.

The ritual was not long, at least not the part that required active participation from the others. Black flames licked at the walls around them, it and Aegon's most loyal servants keeping his family inside the room as the sacrifices began.

He chanted as they screamed, as they ran, as they tried to break free with the pathetic magic they had in their grasps. How could they have ever thought to hold Westeros with just that? Already their lessers were making moves against them. Already the Northerners with their filthy Light were making new pathways into their territories. Aegon had seen it all, hidden under glamours as he traveled the lands, but they refused to acknowledge the truth of it.

Rhaella was screaming in a different tone than the others and Aegon just had the chance to watch the head of her child cresting between her legs before his eyes burst under the pressure of the magic. His part was done.

Rhaegar would have magics their family, the world, had not witnessed in centuries. He would be the greatest Dark Lord Westeros had known since Aegon's namesake, the Conqueror. And all the land would remember why they feared and worshipped the dragons in their midst.


	3. Elia

Aemon had always been Elia's baby. Long after Rheanys and Aegon grew too independent and dignified to allow their mother to dote on them, Aemon had relented to whatever she wanted. 

When he'd run away, she'd blamed herself more than anyone. He had grown more distant and that had only increased when Rhaegar had left to put down an issue in a lesser coven. She'd put it down to him being a teenager, unable to imagine that he was truly rebelling.

She was waiting in his bedroom--put back together after their frantic searches for clues to his whereabouts--when he was brought in from his cleansing. He'd grown since he'd left, losing that last bit of childishness that she'd clung to for so long. Even as small and fragile as he looked, shivering and weak from the rituals, he still looked a man.

He blinked at her, eyes wide and wet (and grey, dulled from their brilliance from so much Light exposure). "Mama?"

" _Aems_." She swooped forward, waving one of the guards supporting him away, and helped him the rest of the way across the room to his bed. "You can just rest now, you don't have to worry about anything but recovering."

Aemon was already wearing loose sleep clothing, as he would have gone through the rituals nude, and so all that she needed to do was tuck him under his blankets. She slipped into the bed with him as the guards made their exit, wrapping her arms around his clammy body.

"Mama, I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his head into her chest.

Sighing, Elia wondered what all Rhaegar had said to him. Sometimes her husband's words were like thousands of tiny cuts, draining out one's life slowly and painfully. 

"You were manipulated, it wasn't your fault. We'd kept you too sheltered." She'd done that, if it had been within her powers she would have kept him her little boy forever.

"No...I..." he trailed off and for a few moments they simply laid there. 

When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, the shivering of his body lessening to just occasional tremors. "Mother, I brought myself to their attention. They didn't seek me out."

Elia was long used to court and did not react obviously to his words, but inside she felt as tense as a bowstring. "What do you mean, my darling?"

"I...tried to summon my...Lyanna Stark's spirit. When I couldn't, I tried pushing harder...it got me the attention of the Starks."

They'd known about Aemon, Rhaegar had made no attempt to hide his accomplishment. They'd even tried to get at him a few times when he was a babe and more vulnerable. Elia had taken the children back and forth between Dragonstone and the Water Gardens for much of their youth, King's Landing naturally too insecure.

"Why did you go?"

The question caused silence to descend once more. She'd been wondering at the answer for the two years he'd been away, had even attempted a multitude of spells to find it, but nothing had ever made sense to her.

Aemon snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around her like a lifeline. "I thought...when I found out what happened to Lyanna, I was so angry. And the Starks made it sound so...it's just that...I'm half Stark. Light magic is in my blood, too. Maybe...I didn't fit in so well here because I was meant to be there."

"Didn't fit in? Aems, whatever do you mean? Of course you fit here, everyone thought so. Thinks so."

"But I don't, do I? I've always been...different."

" _All_ Targaryens are a little different, Aemon, in their own ways. Have you truly ignored the way the court gossips about your aunt? Or the way everyone treats your father? Despite the circumstances of your birth, you belong here as much as they."

He was quiet, shifting to get more comfortable, and hopefully thinking over her words. Eventually he fell asleep and she settled in to stay with him the whole time. He'd been gone so long, she didn't want to miss another moment with him.


	4. Rhaenys

Father had told her earliest--she was the eldest, she needed to know these things. He'd told her of the three heads of the dragon, of the power in the number three. Of the triumvirates of Dark Lords that had ruled Valyria and that had, for a brief period under the Conqueror, ruled Westeros as well.

With the new triumvirate, all of Westeros would fall to them. The Wall would not be able to hold the Dark back any longer, he whispered, of the visions he'd had.

Aegon cared little for the prophecies of the future, he would conquer because that was what he wanted to do. To dominate, to rule. Rhaenys knew it infuriated him that any questioned their family's authority.

Aemon...she had thought he'd go along with it, as he did so many other things, and then...and then he'd run away.

She'd raged as much as Aegon when they'd been told. He was their third head, he had the blood of the Starks that would let them breakdown the Wall. Didn't he love them? Didn't he want to be with them?

But he was gone and she did not know when, if he would be back, and so she had to adjust her own plans for that. Her powers could not rely on the three united, so she trained alone. Magic darker, blacker, descending into spaces even her father might shy away from. 

When she entered a room, the flames seemed to bend towards her as though they were the moths. When she focused on someone, her mood could affect their very body, could cause their hearts to stutter or their bones to crack.

Aegon was smiles and politics, he was their mother reborn into a sturdier body, one that would not need magic simply to sustain itself. But Rhaenys was their father, was the fear that spread when someone uttered the name Targaryen. And no matter what happened in the future, she wouldn't let that change.


	5. Rhaegar

The babe seemed tiny in his arms, surely much smaller than his older siblings had been. He was a quiet thing, red-faced still from the exertion of birth, but calm in his father's grip. Content.

Behind them, the vessel snarled and cried, the last of her life draining out of her. Rhaegar glanced back, wanting to have a clearer memory of these last moments. 

Lyanna was half-shifted, instinctively using the little energy she'd had left to try to make herself more of a threat to those around them. Teeth, claws, eyes that glowed in the low light. It did not matter, though, even at her strongest she could have never taken him on, let alone his entire coven.

She jerked, suddenly, gasping, and in the same moment the babe let out his first noise, a little whine, drawing Rhaegar's attention back to him.

"You feel that, don't you, my son?" he murmured, pulling the child closer to his face. "Don't worry, death will only take her."

He'd found the notes in an old book deep in his family's library. He had not been the first to wish for a Stark to grow his child within them and an ancestor had very nearly completed the steps needed. A Pact of Ice and Fire, it had been called, a ritual that could mix Targaryen and Stark blood. It killed the host, of course, and had required a few other deaths along the way, but Rhaegar had never shied away from blood.

Lyanna hadn't found out what had happened to her brother and father who had come searching for her. And it was doubtful anyone cared what had happened to Rhaegar's own parents. 

"So much has gone into you," he cooed at the babe, who seemed completely focused on him now. "My son, my third head of the dragon."

He was so unusually distracted that he missed Elia's approach and only just managed to hide his tensing when she stroked a hand over their son's head.

"He's lovely."

"He's perfect," Rhaegar replied, appreciating the way her tender look turned into an outright grin. "I will name him Aemon. After two of the greatest of our uncles, a warrior and a scholar."

"A fine name." Elia gripped one of Aemon's hands, careless of the blood staining her own, giggling at his seeming confusion at the sudden pressure. "We always have the cutest children."

"We do."

Having been reminded of the outside world, he turned to face the next person to interrupt before they reached him. "Your grace," Arthur bowed to them both and spared a quick smile for Aemon. "The vessel has expired."

"Shame," Elia sighed, "she was so amusing to watch."

Rhaegar would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't had it trained out of him. "Have her prepared for the feast tonight. We shouldn't let a Stark go to waste."

Arthur smirked and nodded, heading to give the order, and Elia called to his back, "And make sure to drain the blood." She looked back down at Aemon, cooing, "It will help you grow big and strong, won't it?"

"Judging by your attitude, I imagine he'll be more likely to be found tucked under your skirts, clinging to his momma," Rhaegar teased.

"And if so? I could use a child who favors me. Rhaenys is such a daddy's girl."

His heart warmed at the mention of that and he transferred Aemon to Elia's arms. "I suppose it's never too early to start doting on him." And always a good idea to have his wife pleased with him.

There was more to do, a whole ritual setup to break down, blood to clear away so none could use it against his son. But for now he took a few moments to soak up his success and welcome the newest member of his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be fun to do a thing where like before we'd seen the beginning of the ritual for Rhaegar's birth and here we see the aftermath of the one for Jon's lol


	6. Aegon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying my hand at an image for this verse

"Well, look who is back from abandoning us."

Aegon watched his little brother flinch. It could have been from his sudden appearance beside Aemon, but Aegon thought it was his words that caused it.

Shifting on his seat, Aemon turned to meet his eyes. It would be a lie to say that Aegon hadn't been avoiding Aemon since his return, waiting until there weren't so many glaring reminders that his little brother had run North to practice Light magic. Now, at least, Aemon seemed almost as he had been.

His dark hair looked healthy once more, sleek and cared for. His skin was gaining a bit of color, no longer so drained from lack of sun. And his eyes had hints of purple, the ambient Dark of the Keep seeping in to fill the spaces the Light had been in. 

The other parts of his brother...well, he'd been a boy when he'd left, but a boy he was no more. He'd grown taller, filled out, gained muscle. He had all the beauty expected of a dragonlord.

"That...wasn't my intention."

"Ah, of course, you left us without any warning to live among our enemies for some other reason."

Aemon flinched. "Brother--"

Aegon shook his head, pushing him to the side so he could sit next to him on the bench overlooking the water below. It crashed and churned, unusually wild for the season, and Aegon knew it was reacting to Aemon's mood.

"I will not forget this, Aemon. And I am far more forgiving than Rhaenys. If you know what's good for you, you will be working on a way to make this up to us." His eyes narrowed. "And to guarantee you won't do the same again, if we give you our trust."

He received a nod in response, Aemon looking back out at the sea. "I had thought...I am of age now. There is no reason to put off the wedding."

That had not been what Aegon had expected and yet, it was the perfect solution. The oaths they would make to each other would make it impossible for Aemon to run again and even if he somehow did, they would be able to find him. Always.

"You are so eager to bind your life and soul to ours?"

Aemon took a deep breath, then shrugged. "It will happen eventually, won't it? We're the three heads of the dragon, father raised us for this."

"When you left...I had thought at least some part of your reasons was because of us. Rhaenys accused me of driving you off."

"You thought I didn't want to be with you?" Aemon stared at him, expression softening finally. "You're my brother, I love you."

Aegon motioned at the Keep behind them. "Politics comes easily to me, little brother. Lying, playing the game, those are simple things for me. Matters of," he hesitated, "the heart are another matter."

That pulled laughter from Aemon, a surprised little noise. "Matters of the heart, Egg? Truly? Did you think I left because you were deep into sex magics and I was jealous?"

"Well, it's not like you gave us any reason for _why_ you left," he snarled, self-conscious.

"That's....Father already got it out of me. When he first saw me and then..." he trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself, and Aegon winced in sympathy--he'd heard how bad the cleansing ritual had been. "I had found books on the spirit realm and necromancy, at first it was innocent searching for new knowledge and then I realize...I could meet my birth mother."

Aegon scowled, but he remained silent, sure their father had already disabused Aemon of the idea of connecting with that woman. He wrapped an arm around Aemon's shoulders, a supportive gesture he'd taught himself to make long ago. Rarely tactile outside of sex, Aegon still tried with Aemon, who always seemed to appreciate it in the past.

"I couldn't, though. She was...completely gone. And then I found out _why_. Did you know? How I was born?"

"I've only been given a broad description, no details. Rhaenys is far more likely to know." They both knew that to be true, their father shared all sorts of secrets with his favorite.

Aemon licked his lips. "They destroyed her for me. And when I found that out, I tried digging up other information. I...accidentally delved into Light magic."

"Accidentally!"

"I'm _half Stark_ , it...comes nearly as naturally as the Dark to me." Aegon shuddered in horror, making a mental note to speak to Rhaenys about that. "But that's beside the point. What matters is...I encountered one of the Starks in the dream plain. I thought she was my mother, at first, but she was really just my cousin."

Scowling at Aemon's tone, almost wistful, like he missed that creature, Aegon pulled him closer still. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"What was I supposed to say? Oh, yes, Egg, Rhae, I'm using Light magic and casually talking to our family's greatest enemies."

"Yes! Or, something! Hells, if you'd told us you were searching for your mother we could have helped."

"You were busy."

Aegon flinched, at the tone and the reminder. He'd been newly sixteen, finally allowed to delve as deeply as he wished to into the sex magics he'd favored, and distracted near-permanently. 

"So you went North because of her? This cousin?" he spat the word.

"I guess that was part of it. And to see if I could _really_ cross the Wall like she thought I could. No Targaryen has ever been able to."

" _You're_ a Targaryen. It doesn't matter what other blood you have. No Targaryen _before you_ could."

"Fine, fine." Aemon frowned, glancing around them, and then his fingers twitched and Aegon felt a weak privacy ward stretching around them. "Father says...he says that's one of the reasons he wanted me to be half-Stark."

It took a few moments for the implications of that to sink in. "By the gods, if you can cross the Wall."

"I might be able to bring it down."

Even after all this time, Rhaegar Targaryen could still surprise. It was brilliant. Finally, finally, House Targaryen might be able to take the entire continent as their own.

"Right, so, you went North, you walked through to the other side of the Wall, and...you lived with the Starks for _two years_?"

Aemon hesitated. "For the most part. At the end...I had realized I wasn't meant to be there. That no matter how hard I tried, I could never be a true Stark. I left with a...a sort of wandering clan. With them I reached the port, got on a ship to Essos...."

"And were picked up by father's men in Braavos. I know that part, at least."

"Everyone knows that, don't they?" Aemon hung his head. "It was pathetic of me, I should have been shielding better."

Aegon rolled his eyes, ruffling a hand through Aemon's thick hair. "Don't be a fool, little brother. _Father_ had been searching for you, he tried to find you _every single night_ before he retired to bed. Of course as soon as there wasn't the Wall between you he'd pick you up."

"Did...did he really do that?"

The tone of his brother's voice was enough to make even Aegon's heart ache, just a little. "Rhaenys, too, had some weird spells out there waiting for you. And mother."

"And you?"

He shrugged. "In truth? No. I knew I could not manage anything more than what they'd done."

"...Would you have preferred if I had stayed away? So it would just be you and Rhaenys ruling, not the triumvirate father envisions?"

"No!" The sudden burst of outrage brought Aegon's usually lazy magic to the forefront, his voice echoing through the open space and a slight tremor running through the ground. "Don't you dare think that, little brother. Do you think I don't want you? Do you think I didn't lie awake at night, imagining what sort of man you'd grown into?" 

He pushed Aemon down, his back on the bunch, and hovered over him. "I barely fucked anyone but dark haired boys for months after your last birthday, Aemon. Had them mewling and begging below me, imagining they were you. Pretending that my little brother had cared half as much about me as I had about him."

"Egg--Aegon--"

He didn't bother staying to hear more, too wired from outrage. His magic whipped around them, pulling at his body, and he dissolved away into smoke, not even noticing as Aemon reached through him. 

There were lesser coven members waiting in his bed to slack his anger against and that would have to do for now. He could not let himself hurt Aemon, not when their family was still so fragile, trying to slot its wayward piece back into the whole.


	7. Aemon

"That's a silly name, isn't it? Aemon?"

Aemon frowned at the girl before him. "It's hardly sillier than Arya."

"I'm named after my great-grandmother!"

"And I'm named after ancestors, as well. You can't expect Valyrians to have the same names as First Men."

Arya scowled. "But you _are_ of the First Men, you're full of Light magic, I can feel it even here."

"That's...that's not true...."

"Hmm, don't worry, I'll come up with a proper, Stark name for you."

The world shifted.

"We're you're family, you're so proud of being half-Targaryen, but you don't know what it means to be half-Stark."

"It's not as though I can simply meet a Stark in the real world."

"...Why can't you?"

And shifted again.

"Welcome home, nephew." Ned Stark smiled at Aemon, arms open for an embrace he awkwardly gave. "

Shifted.

"No, you're doing it all wrong," Robb insisted, making the motion again. "You'll never get better at real magic if you keep doing that."

Suddenly he dropped back into his body, into the present. His body was shaking from exertion and he could hear his father near-breathless beside him.

Somehow he thought it had more to do with the rage crackling through the room than his efforts at digging through his mind.

"You should have told me, after the first contact," Rhaegar hissed, hand fisting in Aemon's wet hair and forcing his head up to meet his eyes. "What is it that you were so lacking that _they_ seemed a better choice?"

"That's--I didn't--"

"Did we not love you enough, was Elia's doting just not good enough for you? Did you not have enough luxuries, here as a prince of the realm? Was it Aegon and Rhaenys, were they not good enough to be with you?"

"No, no, please, that's not--"

" _Isn't_ it? There must have been a _reason_ you so cheerfully walked into their arms! Let those creatures _touch_ you! Let them corrupt your magic with theirs!"

"Please, father, it wasn't--I didn't--I don't know why!"

Rhaegar stayed silent, letting Aemon cry for a few moments. Then, finally, the hand loosened, petting his head. 

"I need to see the rest, my son. Relax and let me in."

It continued for hours, maybe days, Aemon didn't know. Rhaegar saw every moment he wanted, dug deep into Aemon's actions, his emotions, the magic he used on the other side of the Wall. 

By the end Aemon felt like he was torn apart, too weak to move, blood flowing from his nose. Servants bathed him, but it was Rhaegar who supported his head and fed him broth, singing soft songs from Aemon's childhood.

The cleansing wasn't even half done, first his sins had to be known, only then could the process move forward.


	8. Elia

Elia stood outside of the ritual circle, watching Rhaegar's magic through her senses. It lit up the room, concentrated around the runes he'd drawn on the floor, bright purples and deep reds, frothing with his rage and, though she would never dare suggest it, his helplessness.

He was, at his best, an absent father. At his worst, he was obsessive and overbearing, shades of his own father's possessiveness clear. But he did love his children. And losing one of them was tearing him apart.

His attempted search lasted for hours. When he finally stopped, only minutes after Elia had started to think of stopping him herself, his exhaustion was written across every line of his face.

"Nothing I do," he muttered, stumbling to his feet. "Nothing I do can get through to him."

"The Wall has always blocked Dark magic, you can throw as much as you want at it, you will never get through." She carefully does not point out that that was, in fact, why he'd chosen a Stark as the vessel for his third child.

Servants were still cleaning up the mess of her solar, after she'd muttered the word "Stark" before him just days ago.

He gestured at the circle, but it only budged a little. Her eyebrows rose, she couldn't recall ever seeing him so exhausted, even after battle. With a wave of her hand, she took care of the cleanup. She always carefully walked over to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and trying to not look as though she knew he needed the support to walk.

"Aemon will find his way back to us. We must have faith."

Rhaegar snorted. "Faith, Elia? Since when have _you_ cared about such things?"

"Since I married a fool who thinks magical exhaustion is a safe state to be in within the Red Keep."

He flinched, knowing the truth in her words. Their Kingsguard fell into step behind them as they walked and she relaxed fractionally. Arthur and her uncle would not let anything harm them.

They arrived back at Rhaegar's chambers through hallways left clear for only their usage. Thankfully all that the wards needed was the touch of his aura and not an act of magic and they were able to retreat to his bedchambers with ease.

"So much could be happening to him right now. Our baby boy, Elia, he's not even a man, yet."

She wondered if he would be as concerned about Aegon or Rhaenys, but knew that was a foolish thought. They were grown, for as much as she still thought of them as her toddling babes, and they were dangerous. Aemon had yet to show that propensity, that Targaryen spark that frightened others into compliance.

"The Dark is with him, Rhaegar. It has not abandoned him--even if he were to try to abandon it, to embrace the Light and all its teachings, he will never be free of his blood, of his birth. We made sure of that. And someday, no matter what those--those creatures do to him, he will find a way to escape. We just need to be ready for that day."

He gave her a relieved smile, kissing her softly. "My Queen, what would I do without your cold logic to guide me?"

Snorting, Elia pushed him away to start peeling off his sweat-drenched clothing. "Die a thousand times over in some foolish endeavor, no doubt."

"True, too true." His smile faded slowly as his melancholy returned. "I will have men stationed at the ports and keeps that he might flee to. However long it takes, they will stay there, and they will watch for him."

"Good," she agreed, kissing him again, a bit more forcibly--it was rare she could gain the upper hand in their bed, but now he'd be too tired to turn the tide against her. "And until then, we will prepare. For his return, and for our vengeance against the True North for stealing him away."


	9. Arya

Growing up in Lyanna Stark's shadow was like a cloud following Arya through her years. The stolen princess, her beautiful aunt who dared to explore the world and was captured by the Dark Lord.

When Arya was too wild, when Arya spoke of travel, Lyanna was on everyone's lips. 

It wasn't ever her father who uttered the words, he never used her aunt against her, but everyone else did.

But it wasn't just that her aunt had been kidnapped, it's that she'd been raped. She'd been taken and used. And her child had been kept, chained in the South that had killed his mother.

A Stark child, who looked like her, who looked like Arya, and her father, and brothers, and their uncle, too. Who, if the little bit of information they got from the South could be trusted, even acted more like a Stark than a Targaryen.

She visited the Wall, sometimes. She said it was to visit Uncle Benjen and sometimes that was even true. But mostly it was because it was easier to look South from atop it, the Light humming through it, bolstering her.

There she meditated. And she reached South, searching for any spark of Light in the sea of Darkness.

She'd always known she'd find it, someday. Find him.

She'd always known he'd be looking for his true family, once he could.


	10. Rhaegar

"You know, he called himself 'Jon' when he was in the North."

Rhaegar watched the expressions flow over his friend's face, smirking. 

"He...did?" Jon blinked and Rhaegar could swear he saw his cheeks starting to flush, not a good look with his red hair. 

"He always has liked you."

"He...has?"

Laughing, Rhaegar slipped from the bed and called for servants to fill a bath for him, needing to ready himself for a coven meeting. "Remember when you used to take him with you when you went around King's Landing? He always thought it was a grand adventure as a child."

"You _made_ me do that."

"But you still did."

Jon sat at the end of the bed, blanket collected in his lap as the servants moved through the Dark Lord's room. They'd all taken the most serious of oaths, one that would kill them if they even tried to betray the secrets of what they learned while serving their King, and were no cause for modesty, but Jon had always been like that.

"Huh." Jon's eyes raked over Rhaegar's body, the muscles, the scars, licking his lips as he watched. "I suppose he was the least annoying child around the Keep."

Rhaegar sank into the tub, groaning at the feel of the scalding water on his aching muscles. It had been too long since he let himself relax, these hours with Jon hadn't been productive, but they had been welcome. Elia might have done the same in the past, but the two of them spent all their time plotting now and little time relaxing.

"You like him," he teased. "And I suppose he must like you as well."

Jon walked over to him, taking up one of the cloths left out near the tub and wiping it over Rhaegar's chest. Rhaegar caught his arm, pulling him down for another kiss.

"Or yours was just the most boring name he knew."

He scoffed in mock outrage "You're not funny, the court only laughs at your jokes because you're the Dark Lord."

"I know, I just don't care." 

He kissed him again, wet hands running over Jon's nude form. He could make a little more time to play, he decided. It wasn't as though anyone would criticize the Dark Lord's schedule.


	11. Before

Aegon titled his head back, closing his eyes and savoring the almost physical scent of their work. 

The natives called this lake the Gods Eye. Even the Andals left it alone, it was too holy, too powerful. But this realm had no more use for other gods, the Targaryens were all they would need.

He'd burnt down Harrenhal, a display to show that their castles of stone could not stand against the power in his blood. The lake, he'd boiled, until there was nothing but a bare lakebed covered in fish bones behind. And now...now this Isle of Faces would be his masterpiece.

Already the trees were dying, rotting from the inside out as the magic the First Men insisted on calling "Light" was overcome by his own. Even here, even in this place, nothing could resist him.

By the time he was done, he was the only living thing left on the isle. It was no longer a sacred landmark of the Light, instead it radiated Dark out from it, seeping into the very soil and wildlife of the area. 

The Light would never reclaim this land.


	12. Aegon

Aegon _wanted_ Aemon. 

He couldn't help it, he'd been told since he was a child that Aemon would be his. 

His magic, too, wanted Aemon, would drift around his younger brother whenever they were in the same room, coiling over him, rubbing against his aura. The only one who ever interfered was his father and that was only because his father's magic latched onto Aemon even faster, even more, covering him like a dark blanket when he was near.

His poor little brother didn't seem to know how to react to Aegon, for as well as he did ignoring their father he jumped and jerked as soon as Aegon's magic touched his, shivered and bit his lip in the most tantalizing of ways when it stroked against him.

How could Aegon not play with him, when he saw him like that? How could he not want to take, and take, until Aemon was a writhing, wrung out mess?

While he and their father did not always see eye to eye, and certainly it was his prerogative as eldest son to offer challenge now that he was a man grown, they did agree when it came to Aemon. Rhaegar did not need convincing when Aegon said his little brother should be isolated, should be kept from the court where Light spies might lurk. 

Aemon was almost always alone, now, except for guards loyal to their family above all else. And since there were only so many places to be alone within the Red Keep, that meant he was easy for Aegon to find.

When he found him asleep at one point, vulnerable, Aegon decided to tease him, his magic sinking in and pulling apart the meager defenses Aemon had managed to erect so far. Their father had absolutely destroyed his shields and it might take months for them to be back to where they had been.

"What do you want, little brother?" he whispered in his ear, hands spreading over Aemon's torso. "Have you had anyone yet, Aemon?"

The sleeping young man twitched, but could not wake.

"Have you wanted to have someone?"

Aemon shifted again, then sighed, Aegon just catching the name "Arya," on his breath.

Aegon pulled away, his magic clamoring back to him. He knew of an Arya, an Arya that Aemon would have surely met. As heir he'd learned as much about their family's enemies as he could, after all.

There was power in desire, in want and need, and Aegon had long known that. When Aemon was younger, he'd sensed his budding lusts, but had assumed he'd had a crush and was willing to allow it to some extent. He hadn't ever thought Aemon could want some Stark girl, filthy with the Light and encouraging him to betray his family.

He knew little of the lust and love spells of the Light, but now he wondered. He doubted this girl could have been beautiful enough to sway a Targaryen, he'd seen Light users before, they did nothing with their magic for their looks, seemed to care little for proper grooming.

Aemon had grown up in a civilized culture, had it been the thrill that appealed? Had he wanted some wild, dirt-covered girl?

His rage built, thinking about that, about a girl like that daring to touch his brother, his betrothed. It made his control slip and his brother awoke, pulling his shields back up and scowling at Aegon.

"What was that?"

"Just curious." He dropped a kiss on Aemon's brow, then sauntered out of the room.

He had to find Rhaenys, and potentially confront his father.


	13. Shaena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaena returns to Essos with an ulterior motive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway Shaena/Elia may be happening at some point after writing this lol

Shaena strode into court as though she were the Dark Lord, uncaring of the looks given to her, uncaring of the servants and guards that tried to get her attention. She could feel the huge, dark spot of her brother across the Keep and would not be dissuaded from finding him.

Except for Elia, falling in beside her and taking her arm with such smooth grace that Shaena almost wasn't offended. She turned her from her goal, taking her instead towards her garden. Whatever her brother must be doing, or whatever mental space he must be into, clearly Elia didn't want him interrupted.

"It has been months, good-sister. We are so happy to see you!"

"I heard my dear nephew has returned, how could I not visit?"

she stated, her tone still flat.

"You always show such concern for your family, it's commendable."

Elia was a perfect Queen, far better than Shaena could have managed. She didn't even sound sarcastic as she spoke.

"But you must understand, I've been away so long, I'd like to visit with my brother first."

"He's busy at the moment, but I'm here. Surely anything you'd like to say to him, you can say to me?"

Shaena smirked at Elia, finally removing her arm and moving out of range of her touch. "Ah, but I can't, Elia. It's family business, Targaryens only."

She liked seeing her flustered, even if it was only the slightest flicker of emotion across her eyes.

"Oh? What sort of Targaryen business could you be up to? I thought you had been in Essos?"

"I was. Traveling, exploring. Visiting...old family haunts."

"Aunt Shae!"

Turning, her breath caught. Aemon hurried towards her, face calm but a smile in his aura. She opened her arms, embracing him, marveling at how quickly children grew.

"Oh, dear nephew, I missed you so. I have half a mind to drag you to Dragonstone and chain you in a room."

"We may take you up on that," Elia mused, drawing a soft protest from Aemon.

"When did you get here, Aunt Shaena?"

"I just arrived, your mother couldn't resist having me to herself."

Aemon grinned. "Awesome, you can act as my buffer for Rhaenys."

"Rhaenys? Is that who you're going to see?" Elia's eyebrows rose and Shaena exchanged a look with her, knowing exactly why anyone would be nervous of such a meeting.

"We're supposed to have supper together." 

"You poor boy, scared of girls still, at your age?" Shaena affected a baby-talk voice, just to see him flush.

"No! Stop it! I'm not scared of her because she's a girl, I'm scared of her because she's the _scariest girl in the world_."

Shaena laughed, hearing Elia joining her. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. It would be quite rude of me to intrude."

"What? C'mon, _please_? Nuncle Vissy would!"

"Viserys would sit there and watch her tear you apart just for fun." She flicked his nose and gave him a push in the direction of Rhaenys' rooms. "Now don't keep her waiting, you foolish boy. It will only get worse the longer you put it off."

They watched him leave, Shaena's chest aching. "Two years."

"Yes."

"...How are you holding up?"

"As well as I can be, considering."

Shaena glanced at her, but she knew Elia's face would give nothing away unless she pushed. "And the North?"

There it was, that flash of anger, the quick clench and release of her fists. "The North will pay. We have the means to bring down the Wall and no more reason to wait on it. We'll destroy them and no longer have to fear those child stealing monsters."

Smirking, Shaena patted Elia's shoulder. "I might worry about my worthless brother and his plans, but I know the kingdom is in safe hands with you," she stated, then laughed, to cover up the truth in her words.


	14. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lioness will use every advantage she gets to further her goals.

"Your favorite dragon is back in the capital."

Jaime looked up from the sword he was sharpening, frowning at Cersei. "Rhaegar has barely left the capital for years."

She smirked, holding out the folded piece of parchment between two fingers, soaking up his expression as she corrected him, "Aemon."

Just as she expected, her little brother pounced, beloved sword forgotten as he slowly tried to read the brief note she'd received from one of her spies at court. She waited twice as long as she would for anyone else, knowing the problems her twin had with the written word, before continuing.

"I suppose a visit is in order?" He gave her a pleading look, one she rarely could resist, and she drew him closer. "You'll be on your best behavior, won't you? And you'll be oh so good for me on our trip?"

"You know I would, anyway, Cersei." His hands rested comfortably on her hips, his body fitting against hers perfectly. 

"Very well. It is well past time to introduce Tybolt at court." Their youngest son was a soft hearted boy, sweet like his father had been, and they'd put off bringing him to King's Landing because of it.

Jaime groaned. "And we'll have to be ready for betrothal offers for Joanna. On second thought, maybe I could talk Aemon into visiting us."

"If one of our children ran off without warning for two years, would you allow them to go on _visits_ after returning home?" She'd be surprised if Rhaegar and Elia didn't have the boy chained to them.

"...Right. King's Landing. I'll go inform the guard." 

His excitement was steadily working back up, though, and by the time they had kissed, he'd put away his sword, and then they'd parted ways there was a noticeable energy to his step. 

Cersei held no great love for the Targaryens. When she'd been younger, her father had wanted her for Rhaegar's bride, but her heart had always been set on the Rock--why would she want to be a consort to someone who would gladly toss her aside when he grew bored when instead she could be a ruler in her own right? After killing Tywin and taking his seat, she'd thawed a little to the dragons, enough to choose to spend time at the capital.

It was there that Jaime had met Arthur Dayne--a Kingsguard and Rhaegar's best friend. Jaime's mentor in the art of swordplay. Cersei may prefer to fight with magic, but she understood that physical weapons, especially those with iron that could prevent one from using their full power, had their place. And it made Jaime happy.

What she hadn't expected was Aemon. What fool in the Red Keep thought allowing a prince near random lords was a good idea, she did not know. It had felt like one moment she had let her attention on Jaime wane as she dealt with trade matters between the kingdoms and the next he was all-but playing caretaker to the smallest dragon. 

For all it made her blood boil, it allowed her a position she hadn't thought she'd ever be in--Jaime had Rhaegar's favor, for having Aemon's favor, and suddenly they could be together without fear. They might not be able to marry, Andal laws still twisted through the Westerlands like weeds in a garden, but Rhaegar gladly offered her a writ making any and all of her children legitimate. 

So if Jaime wanted to see a dragon, she'd allow Jaime to see a dragon. For as long as the dragons proved useful to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I WILL put a Jaime and Jon friendship in literally everything I write, why do you ask? lol


	15. Rhaenys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys finally confronts her little brother over his betrayal

No light entered the room, no matter how far the door opened to allow entrance, no matter how bright it shined. Rhaenys did not need such things, in her rooms her magic was woven through every surface, threaded through the air itself, and each step Aemon took forward resonated through her.

"They may start calling _you_ a spider, Rhae." His voice echoed in the room, which seemed cavernous, unending, to most who entered even when they knew it could not be.

"Do you not like my touch, little brother? Is it only father's you prefer, now?" His fear echoed through her webs, but as she spoke she felt the slightest flare of heat. "I almost thought you wouldn't come."

He continued moving, following the pathway in the magic she had left for him. His instincts for the Dark were still sound, he was not near as ruined as she had once feared.

"You are my sister, I would not refuse to see you."

"No, you would simply shut me out in other ways. You were always there _physically_ , weren't you? You were always going through the motions, our obedient little one."

Again, the heat, his simmering anger flaring out just enough to brush against the threads she wrapped around him. 

"I did not come here to play games with you. Show yourself."

She laughed, the sound like tinkling glass against the obsidian floor. "Find me, Aemon." She sucked in a breath, letting him feel the air move across the back of his neck, but moved before he turned towards her. "Or do you prefer 'Jon'?"

" _Rhae_!"

"Tell me, _Jon_ , why should I do as you say? Even a wolf is prey to a dragon."

"I am no wolf!"

The thread sharpened with her own anger, tightened, the scent of his blood filling the air as they drew thin cuts along his flesh. "Aren't you? Didn't you crawl off to their den? Run off to follow a little _wolf_ to _mate_ with?"

He let out another cry, his magic crashing against hers, freeing him, temporarily, from the web. Strong and true, Dark, as it had seemed when he was a child. A lie? Perhaps. 

"I was a fool! Is that what you want to hear?" She watched him whipping around in circles, searching for her. "I chased after a daydream I should have dismissed. I was _made for you_ , Rhaenys. You and Aegon."

Her threads loosened, languid around him, and she stepped close, allowing him to see the glow of her aura around her. Like this, scared and hurt, remorseful, she could almost start to forgive him.

"I want them dead, Aemon. I want their blood coating our bodies and their souls powering our darkest spells." She ran her hands over the cuts on his cheeks, pressing their bloodstained tips against his lips, shivering as he obediently licked them clean. "Perhaps, then, I will believe you."

She gave him no time to react, the web tightening once more, propelling him back through the door he'd come through. For a moment she stared at his figure, sprawled across the floor as his and her Kingsguard hurried to assist him. He looked so much like the little brother she'd adored, but no matter what her father believed, he was still the traitor that had abandoned them.

The door slammed with a thought, blocking the sight from her vision and she stumbled to her bed. If she didn't think about the tears, then they didn't exist. Not in her room.


	16. Aemon

There were very few places he could practice Light magic in King’s Landing. The large park in the Red Keep, which the Conqueror had installed as a mockery to the “godswoods” of the Light, was, ironically, one of them.

Very few people roamed the wooded area, preferring the manicured gardens elsewhere, and it wasn’t impossible to convince his guard to let him enter himself. For ‘solitude’ was his normal excuse and, because he was his father’s son, they believed him.

The entire Keep, the entire city, was awash in the Dark, but there were spots where there were holes worn through, where no one had bothered practicing for so long that the signatures grew 

weak. It took Aemon nearly a moon of roaming the park to find such a place and confirm it using every test he could think of.

If there was Dark, he might naturally reach for it, and ruin the ritual.

He cleared the grass from the spot, leaving behind bare dirt, and carved the runes he needed directly into it. Arya had told him that reaching directly to nature would be good for the spell and, more importantly, it would be easy enough to brush the traces away so no one would be able to tell what he’d written there.

When that was done, he settled himself into the very middle of the circle and began the guttural chant Arya had taught him. The language of the Light was nothing like the flowing cadence of the Dark and as he started his third run through the words his throat had begun to ache at making the unfamiliar noises.

Aemon was relieved when, finally, he felt a response. Deep inside of him, the Light stirred, reaching outward through the Dark he’d cultivated for so long. Everything he’d been taught said that it wasn’t possible, that someone couldn’t have both, but he’d always felt off. Different.

Now he was confirming it. Just like Arya had said, he wasn’t all Dark.

Which made him wonder...had she been right about other things? Was he meant for the Light and his parents had trapped him here? Bound him to the Dark? It didn’t feel like the truth, but he knew they were experts at weaving their lies.

Letting go of the spell, he slumped over onto his side, breathing hard. The energy to do just that little bit of Light had sapped all of his strength and the Dark magic inside of him was roiling and snapping, like an upset animal trying to guard its territory.

Rolling onto his back, spreading out his limbs, he watched the sun through the trees as it slowly made its way towards the horizon, eyes sinking further and further shut along with it.

...Just a quick nap. Maybe he could visit with Arya, tell her of his success.

“My prince!”

He jerked up, nearly asleep, and stared at Ser Arthur, who gaped down at him.

“You...what were you _thinking_?”

Aemon winced and sat up, realizing he hadn’t cleaned up after himself yet and mentally cursing. “Ser Arthur, this...isn’t what it looks like?”

Arthur appeared horrified and Aemon couldn’t blame him. He was Aemon’s guard at the moment, he was meant to keep him from doing reckless things, not turn the other way. His own magic reached out to Aemon, covering him, as if trying to peel away the Light but not realizing that Light was a part of Aemon.

“If your father finds out about this--gods, you stink of the Light--what were you thinking, Aemon? You are too smart to experiment like this, you could have hurt yourself!” Arthur’s words rushed out, Aemon’s shoulders slumping at the sheer disappointment in them.

“...I’m sorry, Ser Arthur. I just wanted to see if I could do it.” He widened his eyes, trying to look as helpless and innocent as he could, a look that almost always worked on the guards. “Please don’t tell father! He’s busy enough, in the Stormlands, and you know he’ll be angry!”

“I should! I should drag you to the Queen right now to deal with and send a message to the King.” But Aemon could see Arthur caving as he probably considered what punishments Rhaegar could devise, information few had more knowledge of than Arthur. “...This will be the _only_ time. You’re still a boy and you’re...curious. But now that your curiosity is satisfied, no more park, no more leaving you alone, and _no more Light_. If I feel even a spark of it…!”

“You won’t, you won’t again. Thank you so much, Ser Arthur.” 

He hoped this ritual to awaken the Light inside of him would be enough. He’d be a fool to try again anytime soon, Arthur would be watching him like a hawk.


	17. Rhaegar

He felt the wards of his workroom give, just a little, and turned. “Good technique, though not good enough, sister.”

Shaena smiled at him, shadows dropping off from around her so he could see her fully. “If you’re going to ignore me otherwise, I had to try.”

“I’m not ignoring you, I am the Dark Lord and there are only so many hours in the day.”

“Ah, so not specifically ignoring me, ignoring everyone.”

“Shaena….” He put a note of warning in his voice, letting her feel his magic gathering. 

This was his city and his power here would always be stronger than any other’s, but even moreso in his workroom. He doubted there was anyone else who could challenge him here, perhaps not even his children when they were properly bonded.

She held up her hands. “This is important, Rhaegar. I wouldn’t have bothered coming back here if it wasn’t.”

That he knew was the truth. No matter how much she liked her niece and nephews, Aemon’s return would not have brought her here by itself. He reinforced the wards again with a wave of his hand and then motioned for her to come deeper into the room.

“You were gallivanting around Essos, last I knew of you.” He’d kept track of her as best he could, but even money and magic had its limits, especially when someone wanted to be slippery.

“I traveled to Asshai,” she stated, “and then to Stygai.”

He nodded, unsurprised. If he had not been weighed down by his responsibilities, if he had not been his father’s heir, he would have liked to make that pilgrimage. That Shaena had now been multiple times grated on him, but what he had was more than she ever could. Real power and a legacy that would not be forgotten.

“And then…” she trailed off and he realized she actually looked nervous. “I went to Valyria.”

Sucking in a breath, he came up with and then disgarded multiple replies to that. “Shaena….That was forbidden for a reason.”

She shrugged. “It’s been two centuries and no one even knew if that’s where Aerea went. I was far more prepared than she could have been.”

Rhaegar closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. If his family killed him for a sacrifice, or for his throne, he could accept that, but that they were trying to kill him through stress was ridiculous.

“And? You found something? Saw something? Why should I care about another of your trips, otherwise?”

“I found a lot. But more importantly...I wasn’t the only one looking.” The implications of that made him look at her again, studying her face for any sign of deception. “There was a ship there, one I didn’t recognize by sight but knew by reputation.”

She went quiet, looking off to the side, and he waited. They’d played this game enough as kids, testing each other’s patience. Their brother Daeron’s death was half the fault of this game.

Finally, just as Rhaegar was thinking of going back to his tasks, she chuckled and gave in. “It was the Silence, Rhaegar. It was Euron Greyjoy.”

Of all the possibilities, _that man_ was not one of them. He’d been mad in their youths and had remained mad into adulthood. For all the Iron Islands practiced a Dark form of magic, it was a twisted, greedy thing that often clashed with the Valyrian practices.

“What would he want there?”

“He wants to know how to destroy dragons, brother. He wants to know how to destroy _our family_.”


	18. Before

Rhaenyra stared at their handiwork, supremely satisfied. Another enemy might have been smarter, might not have moved so obviously against someone more powerful, but what could she expect from a Hightower?

“They’re barely even worthy as sacrifices,” Daemon scoffed, kicking one of the bodies of her half-siblings out of his way to reach her.

“I warned father not to marry her, she was some nobody who just wanted to use him.”

“And the nerve of _Otto_ ,” Daemon’s lips parted in a sneer, “keeping me from the succession and then trying to remove you, as well.”

She smirked before giving him a quick, rewarding kiss, heedless of the blood splattered across their faces. “Don’t worry, nuncle, I already have plans for him. We’ll be paying a little visit to Old Town tomorrow and only a fool would try to interfere.”

“There’s a lot of those in this world. Your former sworn shield, for one.”

Scowling, Rhaenyra turned back to Alicent’s body, taking off another piece as she silently screamed, not allowed to die despite how little of her was left. 

“If you want to please me, dear consort, you could take matters into your own hands.”

Daemon laughed, pulling her back around and pressing their bodies together, kissing her more thoroughly. His hand dropped down, cupping her rounded belly almost tenderly, though it was too early to feel any movement from their child on the outside. 

“I already have a few...creative...ideas. After all of this, you deserve a grand gift, my Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol in a world where Rhaenyra's being raised to be a Dark Lord and kinslaying among the upper-crust is totally acceptable? Yeah, Aegon II was never going to get that throne haha


	19. Elia

Elia clutched her son in her arms, cooing at the babe. He’d almost killed her, it had taken all of her strength and that of three healers to see her through the bitching, but it was worth it.

Her little boy was strong, fit, and the only sign of Targaryen peculiarities was the little brush of scales along his back. “My little dragon,” she cooed.

“He’s magnificent, beloved.” 

She glanced up towards Rhaegar, offering the baby out to him to hold. He’d been enamoured with Rhaenys, far more than even Elia herself had been, and he seemed just as focused on their son, now.

“I shall call him Aegon,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along the babe’s forehead. “He shall be a Conqueror in his own right, the likes of which Westeros has not seen in centuries.”

“I only hope our little Conqueror can give us a decade or so before he sets out.”

Rhaegar’s lips twitched, enough of a smile to know her joke hadn’t fallen flat, but soon it twisted into a frown. “The healers agree that you cannot have another.”

She scowled, they had not told her such. They had probably senselessly wanted to avoid upsetting her, but instead they would see her anger once she was recovered. She hated when Rhaegar had more information about herself than she did.

“...Do we need another, truly? A son and daughter, that’s near perfect.” And would mean they wouldn’t need to be constantly at each other’s throats for power, the way that Rhaegar and his siblings had been.

“The dragon must have three heads,” he insisted and she bit her lip to keep from groaning.

“I know you think three is necessary, but--”

He shook his head and handed Aegon back to her, effectively cutting her off. “I _must_ have three, but I will not risk you in carrying another. We will use a surrogate.”

“I cannot think of a single woman I would trust to such a task. Can you?”

“...Not trust, no,” Rhaegar muttered, his eyes darker, magic sifting through his body making them glow. “But there is one...easily led, easily controlled with the right incentives.”

Elia frowned. “Who?”

The look on Rhaegar’s face told her that whoever he did have in mind, the woman would do best to run far, far away.


	20. Aegon

"Do you think she hurt you just to hurt you or that she remembered you'd always been a little too good at healing?"

Aemon scowled at him and he cleaned off the last of the dried blood, revealing the thin silvery scars underneath--they'd be gone in a few days. Healing had always come naturally to him, a mark of magic that wasn't quite as Dark as those around him. Aegon should have taken note, and yet...he'd always made excuses just as everyone else had.

"You told her."

"I tell our sister many things, you'll have to be more specific." 

He shucked off the clothing on his upper body, stepping up to the side of the tub. Plucking the cloth from Aemon's hands, he began to wash his little brother himself, wanting to confirm that he was healing fine. Aemon seemed startled when he realized the state of undress Aegon was in, sinking deeper into the water as if that could hide his reaction. No, they might not be as close as Aegon wished they were, but he could _feel_ his brother’s interest.

"About Arya. You were messing with my head and told Rhaenys whatever secrets you found."

Aegon's free hand gripped the back of Aemon's neck, a gentle warning. He didn’t appreciate Aemon’s tone, not at all.

"You have so many secrets, little brother, how am I to know which ones you want kept away from our betrothed?"

"You're not fooling anyone."

Aemon pulled away, giving a push with his magic to propel Aegon in the opposite direction at the same time, the unexpected move making Aegon stumble. Catching himself, he watched as Aemon all but jumped out of the tub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his dripping body before he turned to face Aegon again.

"Fooling? I agree, I'm not the best mummer. But I haven't made any attempts to _fool_ you, little brother." He stalked forward, a wave of his hand and the tub was flung against the wall, denting the stone and soaking everything in its path--Aemon wasn’t the only one here who could use his magic for violence. "You're the _accomplished_ liar among us."

Backing up hastily, Aemon's back hit the wall and he let out a soft huff of surprise. "Don't. I don't want to fight you."

Aegon laughed, eyes glinting dangerously. His magic sparked around him, coiling out, trying to grip Aemon, who had instinctively made his own as inhospitable as he could. Which meant cold, so cold, slick like ice and painful for Aegon to touch. Cold like a Northerner’s magic must be. 

If Aegon had been annoyed before, now he was infuriated. The reminder of the barren North his brother had abandoned him for too much.

“Was she a good fuck, Aems? Did you take her in her wolfskin? Is that why you favored her over us? I can’t give you _that_.” He ignored how painful Aemon’s magic was and pushed forward, holding him by arm and neck, his body pressed close. “Or maybe you turned into an animal, too? Is that what you did? Abandon all pretense of being something _better_ than them and embrace that you’re nothing but a useless _beast_?”

Aemon’s expression wouldn’t have been much different if Aegon had slapped him, a wounded, shocked look that made Aegon hesitate.

“I can’t do that. I’m _too Dark_ to be like they are. I’m _too corrupted_ by my Valyrian blood,” he spat out and Aegon thought, with disgust, that there was an edge of disappointment to his tone.

“Poor little Aemon, abandoning us to run away to the North only to find out you’re not good enough for them. Is that why you came back? Are we the consolation prize? Did you even _want_ to return?”

“Shut up! Of course I did! The moment I crossed the Wall I knew I’d made the wrong choice, but I _couldn’t get away_. None of you could get my messages!”

Aegon pulled away, yelling at nothing and releasing the energy elsewhere, not wanting to hurt Aemon, at least, pushing past that part of himself that did.

He walked a circuit around the room as Aemon slid down the wall and caught his breath. It was still filled with items from Before, some remains of childish hobbies and studies, and Aegon realized he had no idea what was still relevant and what Aemon simply kept because he didn’t feel like getting rid of it.

He stopped beside a basin filled with blood and pieces of birds, giving it a curious poke. 

“Father is monitoring my magic,” Aemon stated, sounding tired. “I needed something to transfer my injuries to.” 

He rolled his eyes at that. How inefficient. 

“How many birds did you go through? You should have just used a prisoner.” 

“The only prisoners in the Black Cells in any state for it and that aren’t still being questioned are there for _Light_ usage. Someone would use that to discredit me, claim I faked their death and helped them escape.”

Aemon’s look was accusing and Aegon squirmed inside, wondering if he thought _he’d_ do that. “Don’t be a fool, little brother. You said yourself father monitors your magic, he’d just tell us the truth and that would be that.”

“I haven’t been away from court for _that_ long. I know how much appearances matter.”

“Then ask _me_.” Aegon threw his hands up, frustration overpowering the control he’d manage to win back. “Aemon, if all the healing you can do right now is _Dark_ , then don’t do it by half because you think we’ll judge you. We don’t want you hurt.”

“Tell that to Rhaenys.”

He loved his sister and he knew why she was angry, but he also knew Aemon was vulnerable now. Father had probably hurt him more than enough for all of them. And he’d be eating himself up with guilt, on top of that.

Aegon walked back over to Aemon, sitting down on the floor beside him and dragging him into his arms. “We love you. We’ll always love you. Even when you’ve been a complete idiot, even when you’ve...betrayed us. Maybe Rhae did want you hurt, but if she wanted to make it permanent, she would have done worse.”

“...What happened to her? You’re the same, but she’s….”

“She didn’t have much to anchor herself to while you were gone. She...went deep. Really deep.” 

He rubbed his magic against Aemon’s, projecting comfort and safety. Not his usual method, but he was always good with emotions.

“Because of me.”

“Because of all of us. It’s not like I was particularly attentive before you left. Father was gone back then and mother was...dealing with her own problems.”

Aemon frowned, but he didn’t press. “I just...I want to turn back time. I want everything to be like it was before.”

“It can’t be. It can never be. But that doesn’t mean the future can’t be what you want it to be.”


	21. Aemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested I decided to try making a Discord for rarer ASOIAF/GoT fics. 
> 
> Invite link: <https://discord.gg/djEFfhq>
> 
> Discord is a chat program. Think of it like Skype with mostly text-based chat and instead of a video chat option it has voice chat. It's basically for people into any but the top 5 or so ships in the fandom (which at least some have their own Discords).
> 
> Also, unrelated, I've got work stuff and will be traveling, so updates on all my stuff may slow down.

The Wall was cold in a way that Aemon wasn't prepared for. He'd never known cold, he realized, as he approached it. The heat of the South, of the Dark magic his family practiced, that had kept him from this.

The passage was exactly where Arya had claimed it would be. And with the small, concentrated burst of Light, it opened under his hand. Was this all it took? All this time, was it so simple to get through?

He realized his thoughts were mistaken as soon as he started his walk through the tunnel. The Light was oppressive, making it hard to breath. It was all Aemon could do to put one foot before the other, over and over. By the end he was gripping the walls, heedless of the sting of cold through his gloves.

When he stepped through the other side, he collapsed in the snow, groaning.

"Jon!" Hands grabbed him, two sets, and sat him upright.

Arya he recognized, she looked little changed from their shared dreams. The man with her...he was surely related to them, he had too many similar features not to be.

“Arya?” he croaked, letting them drag him further into the North, trying to ignore the way his very soul seemed to be screeching in pain at the environment. 

“It’s me. I can’t believe you actually made it! I was so worried!” Her embrace was a welcomed event, leaving him feeling a little better. “Oh, this is our uncle, Benjen.”

He glanced at the man again, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Jon. It’s so good to finally meet you….You look so much like your mother.”

Benjen’s voice cracked on the words and Jon had to wonder how close the man had been to his sister. What sort of stories would he have to tell about the woman who had given birth to him? Wasn’t that why he started this in the first place? To find out _more_ about her, so she wasn’t just a mystery?

“I know I took after her. When I saw Arya, I realized what everyone meant by that.”

Arya was grinning and Benjen was nodding. “It’s true. And once you see the rest of the family, you’ll realize just how much you look like one of us. Like a _Stark_.”

Jon’s smile wavered and he ducked his head to hide it. A Stark. But he wasn’t, was he?

There were horses waiting for he and Arya, Benjen saying his goodbyes as they mounted because he apparently was one of the people who watched the Wall. From there, it was a few hours of riding to get to where they were going.

The land north of the Wall wasn’t like anything Jon had seen before. There were no carefully placed roads, no inns along their path or castles in the background. Just trees and trails cut through them, a wildness gracing everything.

“Is it very different from the South?” Arya asked, when she noticed his wide eyed staring, he assumed.

“Very. I...don’t know how to explain it, though.” He shot her a grin. “I’ll have to show you in a dream, sometime.” 

Their dreams up to that point were all about the North. About Light magic and how Jon could get away. She hadn’t, he realized, asked anything about the world he lived in at the time. She’d wanted nothing of his siblings or parents, of his friends or duties.

He felt like he knew nearly everything about her, but how much did she know about him?

Frowning, he looked off to the side again, deep in thought.


	22. Rhaegar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still traveling a bunch and job hunting, so everything's a little slower lol 
> 
> A certain person wanted more ASOLAD though so I managed to get off my ass and write a short bit lol

He slowly traced another glyph into Aemon's skin, watching it part under his blade. His son stayed still, despite the clear pain on his face. He'd lost some of his tolerance while away, but was quickly gaining it back.

"Tell me again, why you left us?" Rhaegar asked, licking drops of blood from his fingers, Aemon’s innate magic tingling on his tongue.

"It wasn't like that, I wasn't thinking I was leaving you, I thought I was just gaining them, too."

"Our enemies."

"My--my vessel's family."

Aemon knew better, now, than to claim Lyanna Stark as his mother, but Rhaegar knew his work was still unfinished. His little boy still tasted of the Light. He needed only a trace, only the ability to withstand it, to pass the Wall. Not...this.

"Did they realize she was just a vessel? Is that why you fled them, too?"

The hesitation before answering made Rhaegar’s magic tighten its grip on Aemon’s body. “No! I...they weren’t what I thought they’d be. They wanted...they wanted me to change too much.”

Rhaegar let out a soft sigh, free hand skimming up and down the unscathed skin of Aemon’s shoulder in a soft caress. His youngest might not be at the level of Rhaenys, but Aemon was no Light user. Even if he’d been raised among them, it would not have changed the influence of Targaryen blood and the rituals that created him.

His son had been a fool, but perhaps that was their fault. He’d been sheltered, after all, and Rhaegar had never told him of the horrors of the Light.

He knelt beside him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his pale lips, the flesh clammy. The slight vibration of Aemon's shivering was more noticeable. Rhaegar couldn't think of anything less pleasant than his son feeling cold. 

It took only moments to clean Aemon off and press a healing potion to his lips. Then he was bundling him in a soft blanket on his own bed, climbing in with him, pressing close.

"I'm sorry," Aemon murmured, letting his fatigue draw him closer to sleep. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I know." 

His anger was easier to direct now, weeks after having Aemon back. It was the Stark girl that seduced him away, the Light that kept him from returning. He'd have a fete, show all the others the truth of that, and then maybe they could move on.


	23. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot has been going on and I'm trying to get back into distractions where I can. I'm still deciding on what other fics to update, but here's a short one for here, to be followed by a somewhat longer one soon.

She was good at magic, of course she was, all Starks were, but she could never escape the yearning for something more, something different.

Something forbidden.

Maybe nothing would have ever come of it, but Lyanna's hand was forced--if she stayed, it was a sentence to marry the man most likely to give her powerful children and she couldn't, she just couldn't. It was foolish, perhaps, but she wanted to marry for love, or at least something beyond a Bolton's clammy, cold grasp at her bloodline.

But she didn't think love and power could go together, not until she met Rhaegar. He was the enemy Prince, he was already married, but he was magnetic and he made her feel special.

Of course she agreed to marry him, of course she agreed to have a child with him--he was the only man who ever sat and listened to her dreams, the only man who cared about who Lyanna was besides a Stark Princess.

Her family wanted to use her, but she was a wolfmaid and would not simply exist to be their tool.


	24. Writer Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a new update, but relevant to future updates

Hi all!

So this is not a new chapter (as shown by the title of this), but instead a bit of an update. If you're subscribed to one of my other fics and get an update with the same chapter title, this is just the same exact thing copy and pasted to save time for all of us.

I'm back (obviously), but have very little motivation to do anything, really (yay being stuck at home for like two months). I'm trying to get back into writing my fics, but my muse is a fickle thing lol

I've reread all of them and some of them (Potentiality, Red Ruins) could technically end where they are, so I may do that and start a "part 2" sort of deal with them both when/if I write the next parts.

Trinity is nearly over, so I'm trying to get out chapters for that, as well. I have a semi detailed outline for Broken Pieces... so I may post that up (with spoiler warnings) for anyone to read, if I don't update soon.

Beyond those steps, I'm mostly going with what I feel like writing at a given moment.

But just to see what still has any interest, I've made up a super short survey of which fics people would like to see updated. No personal info is collected, you just select the fics and leave an optional comment if you want: [The survey](https://forms.gle/nqHZd6LK6rDRGSjd6).

If there's a fic you really, really want updated, filling out the survey and leaving a comment here to help me get motivated is a good idea 😉


	25. Rhaenys

Aemon had been back for months before the preparations started for the wedding. It wasn't his own hesitance that put it off, Rhaenys knew, it was her own. Aegon would have done it the moment Aemon returned and Aemon would have gone along with it at any point.

It was Rhaenys who could not stand to be so close to Aemon for long enough for the rituals. It was her anger, an endless pit of fire within her, that held them off.

She was still furious, but their father was right about redirecting those feelings. They'd left Aemon vulnerable and their enemies had taken advantage. It was the Starks she should blame most, was blaming most. 

Aemon was theirs and more he'd truly be _theirs_ , tied to them so tightly no betrayal could even be thought of.

Deep into the rituals, she used every spare moment she could to dig herself deeper into his soul and she could feel Aegon doing the same. Aemon, whether out of guilt or something else, just opened himself more and more, letting them do as they would.

She could not think of another Dark user who would make themselves so vulnerable, even to their spouses, but it could easily be his upbringing and not the Light that influenced him. He'd grown up knowing he'd belong to his siblings, who both had dominant personalities from the start.

Whatever the reason, they took advantage. By the time the chanting was over, by the time the sacrifices were dead, no one could tell where Rhaenys' soul ended and Aemon's or Aegon's began. They were three and one at once.

Despite the collapse into debauchery at the feast to celebrate the joining, Aegon stayed at their sides, simply watching the orgy before them. His presence settled Rhaenys more, let her relax.

Aemon simply stared at his untouched plate.

"Nervous, little brother?" Aegon teased and they all knew he was trying to distract them.

He received a quick twitch of Aemon's lips in return. "I'm sure you've only been thinking about the bedding for years, I don't want to disappoint."

Rhaenys had to scoff, breaking off her brooding and drawing their attention to her. "Aegon's imagination is sorely lacking, I'm afraid we'll be doing most of the work."

The outraged gasp of one brother and the surprised chuckle from the other had Rhaenys coming more out of her shell. This was familiar and for now she could almost pretend the last two years had gone very differently.


End file.
